


Like Father, Like Son

by gracefulally



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-06-30
Updated: 2006-06-30
Packaged: 2017-10-21 05:55:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/221684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gracefulally/pseuds/gracefulally
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At one time Lindsey was 18 and trying to decide what to do with his life. He chooses college. Mr. McDonald decides to relay a few choice words on that topic (read: he ain't having it). Thankfully, Lindsey is as stubborn as a mule. Wonder where he gets it from?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like Father, Like Son

The heat of the late-afternoon sun not only hit my broad back like a damn broiler, but I was certain I could feel it radiating up from the cracked dirt as well. It was a Saturday so I had been out in this field digging holes for the new fence row since sun up. The gray beater I was wearing was soaked through with sweat from my hard-at-work upper body, but I didn’t strip it off as our foreman didn’t take too kindly to his workers shedding their clothes as it made us look ‘uncivilized’. The bastard was damn strict and didn’t make much sense with all his rules half the time, but my daddy _usually_ listened to him and that was saying something for the man’s art of persuasion.

I swore under my breath when I forcefully thrust the post digger downwards only to connect with something solid a few inches in and send a painful vibration through the wooden handles held in my rubbed raw hands. I should have been wearing work gloves but somewhere between the house, the truck, and the ride out to the property line I had lost them. My hands were none too happy with me at the moment. Undaunted, I grabbed a spaded shovel and went to work on digging out the rock that was in the way and surely had to be something of a goddamn boulder.

“What’re ya doin’?” My daddy’s voice was near chuckling when he asked the question that stung a few nerves. I could feel my jaw clenching in aggravation so I didn’t turn to him and simply kept working.

“Hit somethin’. Have to get it out. Before I keep goin’,” I explained in short grunts and between jabs of the shovel into the dry harden earth. It probably sounded silly to the man who had been resting on his ass damn near all day.

The old trucker had said his back was hurting again, but I knew better. It was hard to not let the laziness get to me, but I had to. He was my daddy. Talking back to him was like breaking some unwritten law where the punishment was a hanging, or in this case a smack across the mouth. And my daddy was neither weak nor well tempered. It seemed like everyone in my family was hard-nosed and hot blooded like that, even my mama.

My daddy cleared his throat as I dropped shovel, having unearthed the puniest stone I’d ever seen, and reached for the post digger once more. “’Bout time for a break, don’t ya think?”

Glancing over I saw him perched somewhat bored-looking on the old wooden fence that we were supposed to be replacing. With something close to a grunt, I let the post digger fall to the ground and ambled towards the man with a bit of dark stubble and tired blue-gray eyes. He had that inviting little smile on his face like he wanted to talk and I hadn’t taken a break for at least a couple hours now. I massaged my aching palms together before stooping to grab an old canteen near our lunch pail. I drained the last of the warm water and let the container fall with a little satisfied exhale.

“You know,” my daddy’s voice sounded somewhat proud as I leaned back to the weather-worn fence to the side of him, “some of the regulars down at the Hitchin’ Post think you could have your own crew in a few years if you take that job for Jimmy Black. Just have to put yer head into the work.”

My jaw tensed as I bit my tongue to hold back the sarcastic retort that would surely get me a swat to the back of my head. Fucking Black and Sons Construction. That was all I heard about anymore and now he even had the good-fer-nothin’s down at that old bar talking about like I was a damn prodigy. Shit, what could three old drunks possibly know about me and what I was capable of? Nothing—that was what.

I had little interest in breaking my back at a construction job for crap pay and even worse ‘benefits’ for the next forty years. There was no way I was going to sit on my damn hands just to watch everything pass me by like I was kicked up road kill and cement my mantra of being “that worthless drunk’s worthless kid”. Really though, this decision wasn’t just for me and my future. It was my family’s future. I didn’t want my kids to go through the hell of poverty that I had.

“Actually,” I started tentatively, not sure if I wanted to be saying this to him now. My daddy didn’t like surprises and well, this one was a little more than a spring-loaded snake in a can. I had to tell him my plans eventually though and it was eating at me to know what he thought of it all. I had the feeling he wasn’t going to like what I had to say let alone what I wanted to do.

“I was kinda thinkin’ I’d like to go to college. Advisor at school says I have the grades. Plus, those old police records mean shit now I’m eighteen.” Removing the Astros cap from my atop my sweaty head and matted short hair, I wiped an arm across my forehead. I replaced the faded bill with a little flap for a much needed breeze which was practically futile in the daunting early-September heat. “Just have to fill out an application.”

The smile on my daddy’s face faltered as he gave me a thoughtful squint. He then leaned back to retrieve a can of Skoal from his jeans and slapped a calloused palm to a seat on the dusty fence next to him. I hesitated before I took his offer to sit down and had trouble keeping my earnest gaze adverted from him as he pondered whatever the hell it was he was pondering. After all, it wasn’t polite to stare. There was a sudden sick feeling in my stomach and I was beginning to think that telling him now had been a bad idea. Hell, I had thought he would be happy for me, proud even.

For a few minutes all my daddy did was eyeball his can of chew as he turned it over in his large hands. Eventually he cleared his throat and I glanced around to him with a hopeful look. The slight frown still hadn’t left his face and his fingers were slowly spinning that tin can in little loops as he gazed out across the field.

“Son,” his tone was both firm and mildly condescending, “I’m gonna be soft as a ton’a bricks with you: ain’t nobody in this family ever went to no ‘college’ before. Farm hands, miners, truckers, construction, and servin’ the U.S.-of-goddamn-A. Not a one of ‘em went beyond high school. Hell, some of ‘em didn’ even go to no high school! And all of ‘em came out damn fine men.”

“Dad—“ I started in exasperation, unable to believe the hard line he was drawing, but the warning look he shot me shut me right the hell up. He never had liked being interrupted. I knew better than that.

“Now, ya think yer a man and want to waste yer time with them educated fuckers? Then ya do it, boy. I ain’t gonna stop ya. I can’t. Go on and make yer mama proud.” He waved me off before he shoved that can back into his pocket in disgust. “But yer gonna have to do it yerself, son. I ain’t gonna pay for ya to go sit and let yer ass get soft in some pussy-ass classroom when you and I both goddamn know ya could be out here workin’ the crops or for Jimmy, makin’ money for your family and puttin’ food in yer brothers’n’sister’s bellies.”

Goddamn, what an asshole. I couldn’t help but glare. “Maybe I wasn’t plannin’ on askin’ for money,” I bit off a little more bluntly than I probably should have.

By the look he was giving me, I swore he was going to black both of my eyes, but I didn’t concede. What I said was the truth. I never once had thought to ask my parents to pay for this. My daddy, Lord save him, was likely the most useless drunk alive. Mama had done showed him the actual divorce papers this time before he had gone for a new job since getting fired from his last for showing up late and hung-over one too many times. I had been pulling in most of my family’s laughable income for years, but now at sixteen and fifteen Abby and Graham were both old enough to take on the same responsibility. Barely twelve Ethan was even able to look after himself for once so Mama was planning to go back to her job as a waitress at the truck stop soon.

“You sayin’ I can’t worry about ya not bein’ able to pay?” my daddy replied, looking thoroughly offended. “Well, if ya ain’t wantin’ money then why even bother tellin’ me?”

I sighed in frustration at how difficult he was making this. “The money ain’t your problem, daddy,” my voice was firm before I swallowed hard. “I was just hopin’ you’d be proud of me for once.”

“Damn, boy!” His palms cracked a loud smack across the fence beneath him. “I’m proud of ya now!” Giving a little grunt of disappointment he shook his head slowly. “Why would ya want to go an’ pass up a job like Jimmy’s to mosey through all them hippies? And pay fer it even? Don’t make no sense to me. No sense at’all.”

I had to hand it to my daddy; he sure was a stubborn old cuss. “Makes perfect sense—me gettin’ out of here and makin’ somethin’ of myself?” I gave him a small reassuring smile as I shook my head. “And I already told ya I don’t need any of your money. I can handle that myself.”

Mama had forced me to save a little each paycheck since I was thirteen so I would have something to live off of once I became a man and wanted to move out. She hadn’t told my daddy, figuring he’d drain the account and use it to buy more booze. It wasn’t much, only just near a thousand dollars, but at least I did have something to spring board off of and out of this shit hole.

My daddy eyes started to widened before his jaw set. “Well, ain’t that just the rattler in the daisies?” he said with a voice full of amazement, I could see the reddish tint of anger rising in his face already. Damn it, I had said too much. “How much ya got, Lindsey? You ain’t been holdin’ out me now have ya?”

“I gotta get back to work,” I said as I jumped off the fence. “Someone has to finish this row before dusk and I’m guessin’ it sure as shit ain’t gonna be you.”

My daddy’s boots hit the dirt in front of mine and he rose up to his full height before me, making him a few inches taller than I could ever hope to be. He was damn angry and I was certain his eyes were going to pop right out of his skull any second. “You gotta pretty smart mouth there, boy,” he said warningly.

His fists were likely clenched and white by now as the man did have a temper. If I were to break from his glare I would be able to see them for myself, but I wasn’t backing down as I had just as much of a nasty temper to match his. “Guess this means I’ll fit right in at that college then, don’t ya think?”

Next thing I knew, his hand had shot up and grabbed a fist full of my sweaty beater to yank me closer to his snarling face. His voice was nothing short of an outright growl, “I oughta tan your hide right now.”

My mouth always did seem to make everything worse in tense situations such as this.

“You thinkin’ I couldn’t do ya the same?” I asked pointedly before my hands reached up to wrench his from my shirt. His hand dropped but I didn’t back off. The anger welling inside me was so great that I actually laughed when I flexed one of my labor-strong arms for him. “Ain’t you noticed? I ain’t a little kid no more.”

My daddy seemed to consider this for a moment before he raised a single warning finger to my face. “Sure as hell ain’t gonna be mine soon enough if you keep this shit up, boy.” He was the one to finally break the glare as he blinked and took a step back. He jerked a thumb over his shoulder and sighed. “Go on, get yer ass back to work then.”

“Yes, sir,” I replied rather sarcastically with a smirk and two finger salute.

When I brushed by my daddy, he whipped off his sun-bleached Cowboys cap and swatted me across the behind for the remark. “Smart-mouthed kids, more like their mama every day,” he grumbled under his breath as his rear found its seat on the fence again.

An amused grin spread across my face when I retrieved my shovel. The irony never was lost when my daddy said that about my mama. It made you wonder if he knew how often my mama said the exact same thing about him. Well, as the saying goes, you can’t choose your parents. I guess my daddy was just finding out that you can’t choose your kids either.


End file.
